If You Give Sirius Black a Butterbeer
by DragonDi
Summary: There's always a logical progression to things. You know if Sirius has a butterbeer, he's going to want something else. Rated M for some language and a teensy bit of shagging in a storeroom with Remus. Really. It's only a little bit.


**A/N**: I was once inspired to write a new way to think of the alphabet with Remus/Sirius slash. Now, I am about to butcher a popular children's literature genre. I am going to hell for this. But I do apologise to anyone who might be offended by it; no harm is intended!

And as always: I do not own Sirius, Remus, James, Lily or Harry. Oh--or Moody. They're all JKRowling's

**_

* * *

___****If you give Sirius Black a butterbeer...**

"Bloody Death Eater-wannabes," Sirius muttered—along with a few other things not nearly as complimentary. "Waste of my time... Time I could be spending doing something else completely different... Something I actually like. But, nooooo..."

No one knew if George Wombart was a Death Eater or not. He had claimed to some friends that he was, but the Order had no evidence. As George Wombart was known as the worst kind of braggart and fool, Sirius thought the Order should just pin a note to old George's robes saying, "Dear Voldy, You can have him. We don't want him. Love and kisses."

Instead, Alastor Moody had decided that Sirius should tail George through the streets of London—and not the nice streets, either—and find out what George did with his day.

It was neither exciting nor promising. Nor was it in any way interesting. It was hot, sweaty, grimy, and completely exasperating. By the time Sirius made his report to Moody, the Animagus was miserable and in desperate need of something cold and refreshing.

He yanked open the refrigerator door and snagged a butterbeer from its depths and then sank to the floor next to the cold metal appliance. After a few more sips, he pressed the cold bottle to his forehead, moaning softly at the coolness.

A shower. That's what he needed. A cold shower.

Too bad Remus was working; the shower could have been a lot more fun with two.

Still, a cold shower after a long, hot, miserable day was something to be taken seriously. Showers for two were definitely not serious things.

But, as nice as the shower sounded, something salty to counteract the cool sweetness of the butterbeer sounded even better.

_**...He's going to want some crisps to go with it.**_

He hoisted himself off the floor and began to pull open one cupboard door and then another, his eyebrows lowering in consternation as he took visual inventory of what was available to eat. There was nothing sufficiently salty anywhere.

"Is it too much to ask for just one small bloody bag of crisps?" he asked loudly, completely put out at the absence of some appropriate snack.

There was a small bag of salted peanuts, but Sirius didn't much care for those. Peanuts were too—plebeian. Now, if there were some macadamias... or some cashews...

Or some damn crisps...

_**When he realises he doesn't have any, he'll want to go buy some.**_

Well, there was nothing to be done. If he wanted some crisps, he'd have to go buy some.

For a moment, he almost threw the entire idea over, thinking of the nice, cold shower that was begging to be taken.

But his taste buds had awakened and were a lot more insistent.

_**When he tries to find some Muggle money, he'll realise that Remus has the last of it.**_

The closest grocer was less than half a block away, but it was owned and operated solely by Muggles.

Sirius reached into his pocket and inspected the coins that he was able to fish out of the depths. Not one Muggle coin to be had.

"Well, bloody hell and shit."

And somewhere from the back of his mind, he heard Remus' voice say, "Hey, Sirius, I'll pick up some groceries on my way home tomorrow. Do you have some Muggle money—?"

"He's done robbed me blind, he has." His eyes lit up slightly. "I wonder if he'll remember crisps?"

Still, Remus buying groceries on his way home from work wasn't going to solve the problem of what Sirius was going to do _now_.

He could Apparate to a wizarding grocery store, or...

_**Since Remus is working, he'll invite James along to the Leaky Cauldron.**_

He glanced at the clock. Remus wouldn't be home for another three hours and it was nigh onto supper time.

Maybe some fish and chips at the Leaky Cauldron would taste good. Chips and crisps coming from the same family and all, it might be a worthy substitution.

Without thinking it through much further than that, Sirius Disapparated to a spot near the Potters' small house in Godric's Hollow.

No one answered his knock and he tried the door. It opened easily and Sirius stepped inside, drawing breath to either announce his presence or to yell at whoever was home that they should never leave the front door unlocked.

His effort was forestalled by the appearance of James carrying two butterbeers from the kitchen "Hey, Padfoot. I heard you coming."

It took only a moment for Sirius to remember the wards that James had recently placed around the house that would chime in a certain way to announce the arrival of a friend.

"You should have your shoes on, then," Sirius said.

James was already shaking his head. "Whatever you're thinking, I can't. Lily's gone to visit her mum and I have to watch Harry."

Seeing his quickly laid plans being tossed carelessly into a rubbish heap, Sirius rethought his options while he took a drink from the butterbeer that James handed him.

_**When James can't go, Sirius will ask him for some crisps.**_

"Sorry, mate. No crisps anywhere," James said, closing the last of the cupboard doors.

Sirius sighed heavily. "You're of no bloody use to me."

"Where's your boyfriend? Why aren't you abusing him instead of me?"

"He's working. And he's got all the bloody money."

James started laughing. "Oh, he has you just where he wants you, doesn't he? Have to go begging for the odd coin, do you? What else do you have to beg for?"

Sirius pointed at his friend. "You'd better not ask that question unless you really want to know the answer because I will give you the response in fabulous and vivid detail."

James' hands shot up in surrender before Sirius had even finished the sentence. "I don't want to know!"

"I didn't think you did," Sirius said. His smile stretched into a lewd smirk. "Of course, you might really enjoy—"

"Shut up! I don't want to hear it!"

Sirius finished the butterbeer, thinking to himself that his need for something salty was even more pronounced now. "Thanks, mate," he said, handing James the empty bottle. "I suppose I'd better just go find Moony."

"Which is what you probably should have done in the first place. What do you have to do for the money for a bag of crisps? Suck him off in the loo? Offer to cook dinner for a week?"

"The second offer would get me nowhere, as he's a better cook than I. Now, the first offer—"

"I don't want to know!" James shrieked.

_**When James is of no help, Sirius will go to Remus for some Muggle money.**_

The shop bell rang and Remus looked up from where he was leaning on the counter, poring over a book. He blinked in surprise once or twice and then the left side of his mouth rose in an amused half-smile. "Sirius!"

"Hey, Moony!"

The smile suddenly disappeared and a worried frown took its place. "What's wrong? Did you burn down the flat? Chase the neighbour's cat into the grocer's again? Or—"

"What? I need a reason to come see you now?"

"You never come here unless you need something."

"Moony, I'm hurt. To the quick and everything."

Remus straightened slowly, dog-earing the page he'd been reading, and closed the book carefully.

"Really, Sirius. Why are you here?"

"I was out chasing Death Eaters all day today—"

"You were chasing George Wombart. That hardly qualifies as death-defying."

"You never know. I did have to follow him down several dodgy alleys."

"If you followed him as Padfoot, you bloody loved going down those dodgy alleys, and don't tell me you didn't."

Sirius grinned shamefacedly. "Fine. It's a fair cop. But, still. What if I'd been caught by the Humane Society?"

Remus crossed his arms over his chest. "They'd have no doubt been amazed to find that the big, black mutt they'd captured suddenly disappeared from his cage, taking at least four or five other dogs with it. Now. Out with it."

"Alright, alright. I need some money. I'm bloody desperate for a bag of crisps."

_**If he decides to make it worth Remus' time and effort...**_

Remus had no sooner locked the back storeroom door when Sirius closed in on him. A few wheedling suggestions and some well-placed touches had gotten them both aroused to the point that Remus had been willing to risk five or ten minutes in the back with the Animagus.

"No one usually comes in now unless they're going to be browsing for a bit," Remus panted, still trying to rationalise this insane, spontaneous mess he has throwing himself into.

"Shut up and fuck me," Sirius said, unfastening and unzipping as quickly as his fingers could go.

Remus growled deep in his throat, dropping to his knees and taking Sirius' now exposed cock as far down his throat as he could.

The dark-haired man's fingers tightened on the other man's shoulders. "Gods, Remus!

_**... He might just forget the reason he went to Remus in the first place.**_

A minute later, he was bent over the thick-planked table that served as a work area for receiving and labelling books while Remus responded to his pleas of "Harder, dammit! Fuck, yeah!"

_**And he'll wander home to the flat, with a smile on his face and no Muggle money in his pocket.**_

He went out the back door of the shop so that Remus wouldn't get in trouble for having someone in the back, should anyone have come in while they were, ahem, engaged.

Then he casually made his way back to the flat, feeling rather satisfied and pleased with himself for getting Remus to shag him at work—something his lover had sworn would never happen because he happened to want to keep that job.

The heat was not quite as stifling as earlier, but Sirius could feel the sweat starting to accumulate in all kinds of uncomfortable places.

He could almost taste the cold, smooth butterbeer as he made his way up the stairs and into the flat.

_**And you know: if you give Sirius Black a butterbeer...**_

He sucked down half the butterbeer before putting it down and wiping the back of his hands across his lips. And then he thought...

_**...He's going to want some crisps to go with it.**_

"Oh, bloody hell."

**If you give the author a review, you'll be doing a wonderful, wonderful thing!**


End file.
